Ever After You
by NashNurse
Summary: War changed everything. Memebers of the 4077th have realized the life awaiting them back in America isn't as rosy as they had hoped. They struggle to get on with their lives and fight to find peace--and love--once again.
1. Ever After You

Well hello all! I haven't been on this site since—(checking)—sheesh! Since August of '07. I doubt there's even the same set of writers on the site. Anyway, I started to write this two years ago and everything I had worked on (and I mean everything) went down with my computer. It was like the crash of the Titanic (as far as computers go, anyway). I came across this story (I had printed bits of it out) and decided to have another go at it. If the chapters are few and far between I apologize—busy college student here in Nashville. The title comes from a lovely song by The Gabe Dixon Band (a local band from here in the South). It's a very dramatic romance (sort of). The plot lines are so horrible I think its Lifetime worthy! But I love cheesy, so here goes!!!

EVER AFTER YOU

Easy come and easy go  
Has never been the case  
Dreams of you are hard to erase  
Call me crazy, call me mad  
Call me what you will  
But I'm sane enough to know that I love you still

They say that life goes on,  
But I've been dead since you've been gone  
I think they were wrong  
So who's the fool?

I am ever after you  
Always ever after you  
Tell me what I have to do  
Is there a way to be happy ever after you?  
Ever after you

There is no psychology  
And no amount of prayers  
That can cure the pain when you're not there  
Cause this is not supposed to be  
How a love should look  
After you have closed the storybook

They say that life goes on  
But I've been dead since you've been gone  
I think they were wrong,  
So what's the use?

I am ever after you  
Always ever after you  
Tell me what I have to do  
Is there a way to be happy ever after you?

Reach out, reach out, reach out, reach out, reach out, reach out,  
Reach out, reach out, reach out  
I'm not going anywhere

I am ever after you  
Always ever after you  
Tell me what I have to do  
Is there a way to be happy ever after you?


	2. Chapter 2

"Stop it!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Just stop it! Why do you have to be so stubborn?" She whisked her blonde locks out of her face before defiantly placing her hands on her hips.

The quaint, suburban house in the heart of Mill Valley, California was filled with turmoil as the young couple hurled angry shouts. This was a small town, just on the outskirts of bustling San Francisco. The streets meandered through rows of the cutest houses—painted in soft shades of blue, green, and yellow, before spilling out onto the sandy beaches speckled with driftwood and tangled heaps of kelp.

The blue skies above were a bright contrast to the stormy weather within the house. It has scarcely been a month since the ceasefire had been ordered in South Korea. All BJ Hunnicut had been able to think of was returning to his beautiful wife, spending time with his beautiful daughter, all inside their beautiful home. It was a bit of a reality check when there was no one to greet him at the airport, he arrived home to a frazzled woman who was still wrapped in her bathrobe (Apparently the clock in the kitchen had stopped) and his daughter was in hysterics—refusing to let Peg strap the Mary Janes onto the squirming feet.

Of course he was happy to be home but he had never expected the challenges he was now facing. His heart constricted with pain as he watched his wife stewing across the room. He wanted to just forget about the whole thing but he knew she wouldn't allow it. The second best course would be to argue his point—and win.

"Peg, you're being ridiculous!"

"Why? Why is it such a preposterous notion that I help support our family?"

"Because I'm a surgeon, that's why! The last time I checked I make plenty enough money for us both. I built you this new house didn't I? On the property you always wanted! Complete with those stupid shutters that are forever flapping against the house!"

"You said you liked the shutters!" Peg paused and crossed her arms, realizing this line of arguing was going nowhere. She lowered her voice and it came out in a terse but quiet tone. "Did it ever cross your mind that I _like_ working, BJ?"

BJ threw his hands into the air in exasperation. "Since when? I just don't understand why—" His hands dropped unexpectedly to his side as he moaned. That was the problem. He just didn't understand. At one time he could finish his wife's every thought and now it was a struggle to piece together even the things she vocalized. He gave up and lowered his body onto the couch.

"I don't want to fight, baby" he moaned. "I've hardly been home two weeks." He patted the seat beside him encouragingly and sent his wife a pleading look.

Peg looked doubtfully at him for a moment and then gave in and curled up beside her husband. She looked up at her BJ—who looked as emotionally drained as she felt—and she managed a little smile. "I love you, Benjamin Hunnicut," she mumbled while snuggling into his arms.

BJ gave a crooked smile as he took in the scent of his wife's hair. He closed his eyes and imagined that time had suddenly spun backwards – that he was still sitting on his brand new sofa in his new house with his new bride. He wanted to pretend the war had never happened. But he would settle for holding his wife close to his heart. The subtle, rose scent of her hair always reminded him of what things were like before the war – before his life had come crashing down around him. Peg had changed so much while he was away. BJ hardly knew her anymore and every moment was a struggle for him to recognize the woman he once knew.

The telephone's shrill ring broke the dreamer out of his reverie and he groaned. "Ignore it," he whispered, kissing the tip of her ear.

Peg gave him a tight smile and shook her head as she struggled to free herself from BJ's grasp. "The noise will wake up Erin."

He sighed loudly and released her just as their little girl began crying from her room down the hall.

"Hello?" Peg answered absent-mindedly as she motioned for BJ to try and get Erin back to sleep.

"Is Dr. Hunnicut there?" the voice was strong and yet very feminine. Peg frowned, wondering who had managed to get their unlisted phone number.

"Um—well—who is calling?" Peg's frown deepened as Erin's cries only got louder. "BJ, what are you doing?" she shouted, covering the mouthpiece.

"I'm working on it," came the irritated reply from down the hall.

"Uh—my name is Lt. Colonel Houlihan, I was—uh—hello? Hello? Are you there?"

Peg had taken the receiver away from her ear and was peering down the hallway. "BJ, she's crying!"

BJ rolled his eyes as he picked Erin up out of her crib, which only caused her to scream louder. "Thanks babe, I noticed."

"Well what are you doing?" Peg persisted.

With every cry Erin gave for her mother BJ felt like a knife was being twisted in his heart. His own little girl couldn't stand for him to hold her.

"Come here, baby," Peg cooed as BJ rounded the corner.

"Just give her to me" his wife instructed. He handed the little girl off and she instantly ceased crying, burrowing her head into Peg's soft, green sweater. "It's for you," Peg informed him with a cool tone as she took their daughter into the kitchen.

Once behind the safety of the kitchen door Peg let out a strangled sob. She sat Erin into her highchair and the little girl frowned and tilted her head while observing her mother's grief. Peg's petite frame shook convulsively as she covered her face with her hands in an attempt to mask the sound. The past two weeks had been nothing but chaos and confusion. She just didn't know how to act around her husband anymore. They had only been married a year and a half—a shorter time than he had been away. He was melancholy and gruff, nothing like the gentle, carefree man who had left her. Peg groaned in frustration and flicked the tears away in a no-nonsense manner.

"Crying won't solve anything, will it baby?" Peg smiled bravely and the child squealed in response to her mother's question. Erin launched into a story that only a two-year-old would understand and Peg opened the icebox to see what she could rustle up for dinner—something special. She wanted to remind BJ how much she loved him and she would do all she could to piece their family back together again.

* * *

BJ let out a deep sigh, feeling extremely sorry for himself as Peg walked towards the kitchen. He picked up the neglected telephone while watching Erin begin to play with Peg's hair. "I'm sorry," he offered to the person on the other end of the line. "Can I help you?"

"Doctor, it's Margaret Houlihan," she informed him in a too-professional tone.

BJ chuckled, his heart lifting at the sound of a friendly voice. "How are you Margaret?" he asked warmly.

"I'm wonderful, thank you." BJ could hear Margaret's voice relax and she pushed on into the conversation. "Listen, I'm in San Francisco for two more days and I was hoping we could have lunch. I would love to meet the girls you never stopped talking about."

BJ laughed softly and grinned – happy at the prospect of seeing a friend again so soon. "We would love to," he replied, not thinking to check with his wife. "What about dinner tonight, instead?"

"Goodbye, Margaret." BJ hung up the phone and turned to see Peg standing behind him with her arms crossed tightly. "What did you just plan?" she asked, her voice sounding terse and agitated.

BJ smiled, overlooking his wife's look of protest. "We're going to meet a friend of mine for dinner tonight. Adrienne's sound good?"

"I've already started cooking dinner!" Peg complained, a frown creasing her smooth forehead.

BJ only laughed and kissed her cheek. "It will taste just as good tomorrow." He turned to walking down the hallway. "You should start getting ready—we have to leave in an hour."

Peg sighed in defeat and headed to the kitchen. "An hour," she grumbled under her breath. "It'll take me that long just to get Erin ready." She reprimanded herself for being so negative. BJ had told her numerous stories about his friends from the 4077th but she didn't remember stories about the nurses he worked with. She pushed the unwelcome train of thought out of her mind and went to retrieve Erin.

"We'll just try to put our best foot forward, won't we?" she asked Erin who was sitting in her highchair.

"Din!" the little girl cried as Peg took her into her arms. "Din!"

"Sorry, baby," Peg told the child with a sigh. "Dinner is going to have to wait a while."


	3. Chapter 3

BJ barreled out of the car, not noticing his wife's struggle to gather up their child as well as her purse, and the little girl's playthings. She slammed the car door shut with her foot and hurried after BJ who was already at the front door of the restaurant. They were almost twenty minutes late for their meeting. Peg tried to insist that she just hadn't had enough time to get ready but she knew, as well as her husband, that she had been dragging her feet.

She caught up with her husband just outside the restaurant. He looked at her apologetically, realizing she should have helped her with Erin. Peg smiled as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Moments like this were rare lately and she cherished the feeling of being completely connected with her husband. For just a moment everything was perfect.

But everything in her world seemed to stand still as BJ broke off the pressure of the kiss and exhaled deeply. She followed his gaze and saw a small woman, near her own size, seated on a nearby bench, absent-mindedly picking at her nails. Peg quickly appraised her to be a no-nonsense woman from the way she dressed, but still very proud of her appearance. The buttons on the cream-colored blouse matched up perfectly to the center line of the pale, blue pencil skirt. Her hair was styled immaculately, not a single strand out of place—although it was certainly over-processed, Peg thought critically."Margaret!" BJ called exuberantly, waving his arms in the air. The woman's expression brightened and she hurried towards them.

_"She has a nice smile_," Peg said to herself as she returned Margaret's acknowledgement.

"It's good to finally meet you, Mrs. Hunnicut." For some reason Peg resented the greeting, it made her feel old and trapped—nothing like the beautiful, free woman before her.

"Shall we go in?" Peg suggested, looking towards her husband. BJ nodded in agreement and opened the door for the two women. He stared at Margaret's backside slightly longer than appropriate and then flushed as he caught himself. He had hardly said a word since he had seen Margaret on the boardwalk.

_"Two weeks of vacation has done her good,"_ he thought warmly. Her face had softened slightly and she didn't look nearly as hash as he remembered from a month ago.

"You must be so glad to finally have your husband again," Margaret was saying as BJ scooted her chair out before moving to assist his wife.

Peg smiled affectionately at BJ, starting to calm her nerves a bit, and nodded. "We've missed him," she agreed.

"So what have you been doing these last two weeks?" BJ asked curiously as he rubbed Erin's back.

Margaret smiled brightly, feeling entirely too happy, and shrugged. "Well, I left the 8063rd after about a week and I've spent the last week and a half in San Francisco draining my pocketbook on all the tourist attractions." BJ laughed and Peg attempted a chuckle but a wave of exhaustion swept over her and she could only manage a weak smile.

Erin's complaints were appeased with a handful of crayons and a piece of white paper which allowed BJ and Margaret to talk freely while Peg drifted in an out of attention. They were seated on the patio which was enclosed in glass so the diners could watch the gentle waves lapping against the boats docked in the harbor. Peg loved this restaurant. BJ had discovered it years ago while they were still dating and they had frequented it often—sometimes alone, but usually with friends.

"Honey?" Peg snapped out of her reverie and smiled penitently.

"What were you saying?"

BJ gave her an odd look. "Margaret wanted to know what color you have in mind for the house."

Peg snorted, wondering how on earth they managed to get on the subject of paint. She shrugged nonchalantly. "I really haven't thought about it."

Margaret cringed inwardly at Peg's cool answer. The woman was frustrating as hell! She had a feeling that any attempts to pull her into the conversation would fail.

_"What on earth does he see in her?" _ Margaret though for a moment before mentally slapping herself into reality. _"She can't be all that bad."_

BJ ordered food for the entire table and then got up to use the facilities. If he were honest with himself he would have admitted he just needed to get away from his wife's blank stare for a few moments. _"What's gotten into her tonight?" _

The two women sat staring at each other awkwardly for a few moments before Peg's curiosity got the better of her.

"How long were you stationed in Korea with BJ?" Peg asked, actually interested in the answer. BJ had spoken quite a bit about his comrades in his letters home but he rarely spoke about the nurses and never about their past.

Margaret was surprised but certainly relieved at Peg's effort for conversation and she smiled happily, gaining a half smile from the pretty mother.

"I was there from the beginning of the war—about a year longer than him."

"So is that when you were promoted to Major?" Peg saw Margaret flush slightly and she knew she had hit upon something Margaret would rather not bring up.

"Around that time," she responded after thinking it through. "It didn't really have anything to do with being transferred though."

Peg chuckled in response and nodded. "More like being around the right general at the right time?"

Margaret's mouth fell open in shock and she watched the color drain from Peg's face. She couldn't believe what had just come out of that pretty little red mouth. She had been around hateful women plenty of times throughout her lifetime but Peg certainly wasn't the type of woman she would have expected to say something so shamelessly nasty. The new Lt. Colonel shot Peg a hateful glance just as BJ returned to the table. The look on his face told both women he had heard the last piece of the conversation.

Peg's heart was thumping heavily against her chest and she felt like crying. She avoided her husband's gaze but she instinctively knew he was furious for what she had just said.

_"That's not what I meant!" _she wanted to scream out at the both of them _"but it is what you meant—exactly what you meant." _Peg whispered something to Erin and the little girl giggled holding up her picture for her father to see. Normally she would have apologized quickly, assuring Margaret that that was not what she had meant. She wasn't sure why she remained silent, but she felt her heart constrict as she mentally began building up a wall to block the pain radiating into her soul as her husband stated angrily at her. The painful silence was finally broken as the waitress arrived with their soup.

"Well that was a disaster," BJ said bitterly as they climbed into the car.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she reprimanded, desperately trying to gain some ground. "The dinner went perfectly fine." Of course she knew that wasn't true in the slightest. The meal had been uncomfortable and mainly silent after the food arrived. But she was upset about the way BJ had treated her after she had accused Margaret of being _over-friendly_ with the generals. Oh, she knew she probably deserved the cold shoulder, but that didn't mean it hurt any less.

"You humiliated her!" BJ argued vehemently.

Peg bit her tongue and crooned softly in Erin's ear as the toddler began crying. "I knew we should have gotten a baby-sitter," Peg grumbled. It's far too late for her to be out."

"I wanted Margaret to meet my daughter." BJ growled as he started the car.

"Why?" Peg interjected suddenly. "Why did you want her to meet Erin? You'll never see the Lieutenant Colonel again."

"You don't know that." He barked in defense.

Peg balked at that statement. "What's that supposed to mean?" she almost didn't want an answer.

BJ fell silent, allowing Peg to think whatever she wanted about his retort. BJ was astonished with the way Peg had acted and he had twisted it into somehow being because Peg was mad at _him_ (which was partially true). He knew Peg had changed while he had been gone but the woman he married would have never verbally attacked someone the way she did that night. At first he was certain that she would blush and apologize a thousand times over, saying that wasn't what she meant. But instead she had sat there, returning his shocked and angry glare.

With each of them stewing in their silence, by the time they reached home they had reached their boiling point. Peg stormed into the house to put Erin to bed and BJ sullenly made his way into the house and flopped down on the couch and idly picked up the newspaper from the cheery-wood coffee table. He remembered picking out the table with his new bride. They had poked all over the surrounding cities looking for the perfect pieces to furnish their new home. She had fallen in love with this piece, as had he.

He groaned and leaned back into the cushions. He was in his own universe, staring off into space feeling like he carried the whole world on his shoulders. The war had changed him, he never realized how much until that moment.

"Is that all you're going to do for the rest of the night?" Peg snapped as she walked back into the room. She was in an argumentative mood and she knew it, but she was too tired to put out the effort to keep her mouth shut.

"What is wrong with you?" BJ threw down the newspaper and stood up. "Ever since I've gotten home you've been acting like it's an inconvenience to have me here! I waited for two damn years to come home, only to find that my wife doesn't even want me here anymore!"

"What about you?" she countered, crossing her arms defiantly. "You think you've been so affectionate and caring?" You were barely home two days before you ran off to the nearest hospital trying to get a job."

"I did that so you could stay home with our daughter!"

"No!" she wailed. "You left so you wouldn't have to deal with me."

The couple stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes mirroring each others pain. Neither of them knew what to do to fix it. Slowly Peg felt her anger melting away but it was being replaced by a burning ache so severe she almost collapsed onto the hard, wooden floor. She missed her husband so much.

Peg turned around and wearily headed towards their room, doing her best to keep her shoulders from shaking until she was out of sight. Once she was in their bedroom she dropped onto the bed and let the sobs rack through her body.


	4. Chapter 4

Peg woke up lat the next morning. Her head was throbbing and her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton balls. She coughed slightly as she sat up and put a hand to her aching head. She looked down at her dress and moaned—it was hopelessly crumpled.

_"Just one more thing going wrong,"_ she observed pessimistically. She was surprised to notice it was well past eleven. _"Why hasn't Erin cried for me?"_ She hurriedly got up and ran her fingers through her matted hair as she walked across the hallway and into Erin's bedroom.

The little girl had climbed out of her crib and was sitting contentedly on the floor, coloring in all her story books.

"Oh, Erin," she groaned as she picked up the little girl.

"Mor'n ma!" Erin greeted happily.

"Good morning, baby." Peg felt her heart lighten as she snuggled against the sweet child. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"Bekfast!" Erin cheered, clapping her hands. "Baby hungwy."

Peg laughed and walked down the stairway with her daughter. "Hi dada!" Erin greeted. Peg started when she saw BJ's sleeping form on the couch, still in the same position as when she had left him.

Peg set Erin down on the floor and the toddler quickly ran over to her daddy and pocked his knee. "Dada," she tried to whisper but it came out as more of a shout.

BJ's eyes jerked open, causing Erin to giggle.

"Nap, nap?" she questioned him.

BJ didn't answer. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Peg. The worry and uncertainty etched on her face pulled at his heart strings and he was about to walk over to her when Erin poked hi knee again.

"Mor'n, Dada."

"Good morning, beautiful. Have you had breakfast yet?" he asked while hugging her small frame. She shook her head and BJ smiled, looking up at Peg.

"Well how 'bout I make you something." His question was directed to Erin but he was still looking at his wife, hoping she would understand this was his way of apologizing. Her small smile assured him she knew what he was thinking.

BJ looked back at Erin who was making a disgusted face. "Mama make bekfest." She demanded.

"She's old enough to know food poisoning isn't a good thing," Peg quipped as she walked into the kitchen, Erin toddling after her. "Don't worry baby," Peg said to Erin. "I won't let your daddy anywhere near the stove."

BJ got up and followed his family into the kitchen. Peg had already placed Erin in her highchair and was occupied with pulling items out of the icebox.

"Come here for a second," he urged, pulling her out of the kitchen in spite of Erin's protests.

"She's really hungry, BJ." Peg said in complaint as she pulled back.

"Peg, I need to talk to you," he insisted, keeping a firm grip on her wrist. She relented and looked at him expectantly.

"Aren't you glad I'm home?" he asked softly, staring into her soft, grey eyes.

Peg sighed. Of course she was happy to have him back, she loved him. "It isn't that simple," she began and then hurried to finish her statement as BJ's countenance darkened.

"I love you, BJ, but I'm also used to having things exactly the way I want it. You've been gone for longer than we were together."

"That was hardly my fault," he cried, playing the part of a martyr.

"Of course not." Peg could feel the tears building up again. "Please don't get so upset. I'm so sick of fighting."

"Jesus, Peg," BJ backed away in irritation, his voice just below a shout. "What do you want from me?

"I want you to love me!" she cried. "That's all I want!"

"Well what about me?" he asked bitterly. "You want me to love you, but loving me is only an option?"

"You know I love you." Peg was completely panicked. Things were moving in a bad direction and very quickly. How could it have gotten this bad? Were they really to the point of questioning if they loved each other? Surely, through the hell of the past two years, it was because they loved each other that they had survived—right?

"Oh really?" BJ walked over to the door and picked up his keys from a side table. "That hasn't exactly been apparent. That way you've constantly criticizing everything I do, the way you refuse to even be civil to my friends…"

"Stop it!" she screamed. "Stop it, BJ! I can't take this anymore." Her eyes were flooded with tears that were spilling out onto her cheeks.

He paused for a moment, she could see that he was wondering if he should go or stay and finish out the battle. He didn't know what to do. More than anything in the world he wanted to block out the image of her tear-stained face. His preferred method would be to gather her up in his arms and tell her how much he adored her. But that would only be prolonging the inevitable fight. He opened the door and stormed outside.

"Where are you going, BJ?" Peg cried, following him out to the car.

"Where do you think?" he snapped back angrily. "I'm going to work. I've already missed half my shift. Do you want me to lose my job?"

"_Do you want to lose your family?" _Peg silently speculated. She would have thrown herself to her knees and begged if she thought it would have helped.

"I'll be back around six." He said gruffly, allowing himself one lingering look at his wife before slamming the car door and roaring down the street, leaving a dejected woman in tears.

BJ usually enjoyed the trip to the large hospital in sunny San Francisco but today the view of the cold waters only depressed him. He had fully intended to go straight to work but as he drove down the sun-scorched pavement he realized there was no way he could concentrate on his patients until he could clear his thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

I KNOW!!! Two chapters in one week! Be extremely proud of me, please. lol. I hope you enjoye it... even I was getting tired of all the fighting.

* * *

Margaret stood on the small balcony attached to her hotel room and took in a deep breath of the salt-smelling air. She let her eyes wander of the huge expanse of water and found herself smiling as she watched seagulls chase scraps of food around the beach. She would be heading to Fort Worth the following morning and Margaret was looking forward to being near her family again although she dreaded packing away her new dresses, never to be worn again for God only knows how long.

She heard a child shriek beneath her and she smiled as she watched the little boy drag his mother towards the sand. The sidewalk twisted along the coastline with small cottages on one side, hotels dotted here and there, and the sparkling, dancing waves along the other side of the path. People walked back and forth underneath Margaret's gaze as she leaned against the railing. They seemed to have no particular destination in their mind as they laughed and chatted gaily.

Lt. Colonel Houlihan sighed loudly and walked back into the shaded room. On the last day of her furlough she wasn't feeling as relaxed as she had anticipated. She sat down in front of the pretty vanity and picked up her brush.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked her reflection. The face staring back at her wrinkled in a frown and Margaret rolled her eyes in disgust and began combing through her unruly hair. The brush flew through the platinum locks in Margaret's efficient and capable hands. Those words described everything about the woman—_efficient_ and _capable._ Unfortunately, being good at what you do is never enough—as she well knew.

A child's excited shriek interrupted her task and Margaret smiled slightly. She remembered a time when she had been thrilled over the site of the blue waves lapping against the shoreline. She missed that sometimes, the simple joy of being a child.

"_But a child has no control over what happens to them,"_ she reminded herself abruptly and jumped up from the vanity in frustration. This vacation had left her with far too much time to think

A knock on the door saved her from this train of though and she hurried to answer.

"Want to grab some lunch?"

Margaret smiled at the sandy-haired man and invited him into the room.

"I didn't expect to see you again after last night" she commented with a wry smile.

BJ's face clouded over and the angry expression startled his friend. "I apologize for that, Margaret."

She laughed gaily and shook her head. "Don't be ridiculous, you didn't do anything." The troubled look on BJ's face worried Margaret and she wanted to move away from this obviously-touchy subject. "Help me find my sweater in this mess."

BJ took her cue and affected a smile. "Good lord, Margaret. How much shopping can a woman do in two weeks?" He started rummaging through a half packed suitcase that way lying open on the bed.

"Now why haven't I seen this before?" He pulled out a light pink negligee and held it up to the light. "Not much to it, is there?" He pulled against his face. "Hold up your hand, I wanna guess how many fingers you're holding up."

The nightgown was ripped out of his grasp by an aggravated Lt. Colonel who shot him a dirty glare.

"I told you to find my _sweater_," she reprimanded. He drew out a soft blue sweater and tossed it to her with a wink.

"Come on, Margaret. Let's get some lunch." She smiled in defeat and followed him out the door.

* * *

They walked along the boardwalk, looking to the entire world like a young couple very much in love--happy just to be together. BJ tilted the bowl of ice-cream towards Margaret and she happily took a spoonful of the creamy dessert.

"I'm going to miss you, BJ," she said with a smile. She felt stupid for such a presumptuous comment but she was feeling so relaxed she had no control of what spilled out of her mouth.

The man laughed and unexpectedly draped his arm around her shoulders lazily. "Don't forget me in another five years when you're happily married with your three army-brats."

Margaret chuckled cynically at his prediction but she didn't counter it—she was too involved in the comforting warmth of his embrace.

"So you've been to Fort Worth before?" he asked as they approached a bench.

Margaret nodded pleasantly and sat beside him. "Yeah, when I was about ten we lived there almost three years. My mother and uncle lives there permanently, though."

"Together?"

Margaret laughed abruptly and shook her head. "No, not a chance. He's my father's brother and my mom can't stand him or my aunt." Margaret stared aimlessly at the stores in front of her, a grinning to herself.

"You like your aunt and uncle don't you?" he asked with an accusing tone. "You like that they drive your mother crazy."

Margaret's back straightened and her mouth dropped in protest—words of denial ready to pour forth until she noticed the mischievous twinkle in BJ's eyes. "I think I do like it," she mumbled sheepishly.

They both laughed and Margaret placed her hand on top of BJ's as she rose from the wooden seat. Her smile faded and her hand froze in place. Something wasn't right. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to keep moving but she was being drawn towards this gentle man beside her.

"What's wrong?" he asked with concern.

She let her body fall back onto the seat and she scowled. "Does Peg know you're here?"

BJ sighed and grasped her hand firmly, as if he were hanging on for life. "It's not working," he confessed shamelessly. "I don't know what happened."

Margaret processed what he had just admitted and squeezed his hand back gently. "What are you talking about, BJ?" she asked him harshly. "Look at me!"

His green eyes met her gaze and Margaret could see the ache. "Everything's different," he said resentfully. "She's just not the same woman I left two years ago."

Margaret let her guard drop as pity washed over her. Peg really wasn't being fair to him at all, she reasoned. It wasn't right that she expect him to be so perfect.

"_Besides,"_ her mind said so clearly. _"He already is perfect."_ Margaret instantly checked her thoughts as she surveyed BJ in astonishment. _"He really is perfect,"_ she concluded in surprise, her mind wandering once more. _"He's perfect and you've fallen for that lazy smile and gentle face. No, no, you idiot. He's married to Peg. Remember Peg? She's the woman he rattled on an on about for two years. But he says it isn't working. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is she leaving him?" _

"It's just not working." BJ summarized bluntly, breaking Margaret away from her mental argument.

"She doesn't deserve you." Margaret stated boldly. She flashed him a smile and stood up, offering a hand to BJ. "Come on, Hunnicut; finish showing me around this lovely city."

For the second time that day, BJ allowed her to coax him out of his mood and he grinned in response. "You're wonderful." He took her hand and kissed her cheek before pulling her down the boardwalk.

As they spent the next rest of the morning together Margaret grew firmer and firmer in her resolve to ask BJ what he planned on doing with Peg. But she stopped herself every time as she remembered the tortured look etched on his face when he had confessed his marital problems. So she ignored it.

"_It isn't important that you know anyway, Houlihan_." Margaret gave an inaudible sigh and looked at BJ who was busy purchasing a new scarf for her. _"But I want to know."_ She suddenly realized. _"Why? Why is that so important?"_ In one horrifying, yet wonderful, moment, Margaret realized exactly why she so desperately wanted to know.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, handing her the navy-blue scrap of silk. "I thought this would look pretty against your hair." He informed her, holding her sweater as she tied the material around her unruly, wind-blown hair.

"You look lovely." He held out his arm to escort her back to the hotel and the good friends chatted comfortably until they reached her room.

"Goodbye, BJ." Margaret smiled warmly and daringly reached up to stroke the side of his face.

"I'll be seeing you, Margaret." He leaned forward to kiss her cheek but Margaret tilted her head and kissed him firmly on the mouth.

"I'll be seeing you." She repeated as she stepped into the hotel room.

BJ stared after in shock for a moment but then quickly cleared his head and began to retreat down the hallway. He stopped as Margaret called after him.

"If it doesn't work out," she gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'll be around."

Margaret quickly shut the door feeling exhilarated and yet frustrated with herself for going so far.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry it's been so long since I updated. Midterms! But anyway, I know some of you are aggravated with my depressing plot and where I've taken the story so far (Oh you're gonna looove this chapter then) True there wasn't ever any "spark" between BJ and Margaret. But doesn't it make sense that a man could be confused while tryiing to re-adjust to his "old" life? And didn't Margaret show time and again that she though BJ was a great man and she hoped she could find someone like him? They were good friends by the end of the show and I don't think it is too much of a stretch to find them in their current position.

Anyway, if you haven't liked it so far I'm moving on at the middle/end of the next chapter. Let me know how much you hated this chapter! :)

-Major-Baby

* * *

BJ left the hotel feeling even more troubled and confused than when he had left the house that morning in a rage. He headed straight for work; hoping that his patients could keep his mind occupied—but the day only got worse. Upon arriving at the hospital he was informed that that the position he applied for, that of chief surgeon, had already been filled—by a man barely out of college. One of the nurses that worked in his station had been a head-on collision and was killed instantly. He tried to console the other nurses while still trying to gently convince them to do their jobs. An elderly patient of his went into cardiac arrest and was pronounced dead just as the old man's wife walked into the room. Finally, as if he was in an over-dramatized movie, it began to rain on the way to his car. By the time he reached home at nine-o-clock he was soaking wet and completely drained—both physically and mentally.

He walked in, feeling years older that his thirty-two years of age, and lowered himself wearily into his old, over-stuffed armchair.

Peg took a deep breath and called to him from the next room. "Dinner's ready." She checked her hair in the mirror and rearranged a few strands before picking up an elaborate leg of lamb and set it on the dinning table. She had begged a neighbor to take Erin for the night and then she had spent the entire day preparing an elaborate meal, hoping, by some miracle, she could convince her husband to forget about the past two weeks and just start over. She was standing on her last leg and she didn't know what else she could do to repair things between them.

"BJ," she called again. "Dinner!"

"I'll be there in a minute," came the mumbled response.

She looked at the elegant table and smiled satisfactorily. "Could you put on a record on your way in?" she requested, smiling like a nervous schoolgirl as she awaited his reaction.

"I said just a minute!" he roared. "Can't I get just one damn minute to myself?"

Peg felt her heart sink into her stomach and she walked into the living room dejectedly. "What's wrong now?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Her husband's thunderous expression yielded no response and Peg was left to think the worse. "Oh my god," she breathed, as her hurt expression turned to one of horror. "You were with her?"

_"I didn't sign up for this"_ he found himself thinking. _"I didn't sign up for any of this—the house, the job, the wife who doesn't trust me at all…none of it."_

"So what if I was?" he responded bitterly. He knew Peg was thinking more had happened than just a lunch but he was in no mood to correct her.

"Oh, BJ," Peg slumped onto the sofa, her pitiful cry only annoying BJ in his current mood.

"Why do you do that?" he shouted. "Why do you always give in? Stand up! Yell at me! Show some spirit for god's sake!"

Peg snapped and launched herself at her husband. "You want spirit?" her voice was low at first, just barely above a whisper but shaking with furry. "Get out!"

"What?" BJ looked at her in confusion as he started to realize the gravity of what he had just done.

"Get out!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Get out of this house and never come back! I never want to see your disgusting, lying, cheating face again!" with every word she either hit him or shoved him towards the door. "Get out!"

BJ quickly retreated back into the rain and watched his wife slam the front door in his face. He dragged himself over to the car and sullenly flopped onto the seat. As he sat there mulling over this last argument his face began to burn with anger once again.

_"She didn't even wait to find out what had happened at work. She just started demanding things and then assumed that I had an affair!" _He grunted in disgust and then started the car. As he was about to pull out of the driveway he hesitated, wondering for just a moment if he should go back inside and try and explain.

_"No,"_ his mind told him. _"It's over. That's what she told you. She said never come back."_

* * *

Her heat beat quickly as Margaret's sharp eyes darted about the dark room. She looked over at the balcony and saw the curtains flapping gently in the wind and she breathed a sigh of relief. The sound she heard must have come from outside. She slid out of the warm bed and padded softly across the room to the window, yawning sleepily as she did so.

Margaret paused at the balcony door and smiled dreamily at the moon shinning brightly over the ocean. "Oh get a grip," she chastised herself, the smile quickly fading. "You've got a long day tomorrow." With one longing glance at the moonlit waves Margaret turned back to bed.

A bang came again and she looked around the room in bewilderment. The french doors were tightly closed—the noise couldn't be coming from outside. She hesitantly flipped on a light switch and looked around the room. Margaret heard a groan and she realized the sounds were coming from the hallway.

A quick glance at the clock told her it was a little past two in the morning. "Who's out there this time of night?" she wondered in aggravation. She debated between calling the front desk and yelling at the offender herself. In true Houlihan spirit, Margaret opted for the later and threw the door open.

She rocked backwards in shock as she saw BJ sitting on the floor in front of her room. His face bore an expression she couldn't comprehend.

"What are you doing?" she asked sternly, moving her hands to her hips.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly. Margaret nodded and the man struggled to get to his feet.

"How much have you had to drink?" she asked as BJ moved past her. He smelled like whiskey and Margaret wasn't about to let it slide.

"Just a couple of beers."

"BJ, you've obviously—"

"You said you'd be around" he interrupted. Margaret's face blanched and her mouth straightened to a narrow, firm line.

"You said you'd be around if it didn't work."

Margaret nodded but even as she did so her entire body remained rigid.

"You're perfect," he whispered gruffly, taking a step towards her.

Margaret loosened her expression but kept her body at attention. "You can't be serious." She argued weakly.

BJ wrapped his arms around her waist and Margaret felt herself being drawn into his intense gaze. "You won't get hurt," he mumbled, bringing his forehead down to meet hers.

"I'm not afraid of getting hurt," she snapped, backing away from him. He grinned—an action entirely unexpected to Margaret.

"That's why I love you, Houlihan." He moved towards her once again and this time Margaret allowed him to hold her. She stared into his face long and hard as she calculated her next move. After a short amount of deliberation she placed both of her hands on his chest and leaned in to kiss him.

He pressed back against her almost violently causing Margaret to sink onto the bed. He looked down on her for a moment, his frame towering above hers.

Margaret tilted her head back and sighed contentedly. "What are you waiting for?"


	7. Chapter 7

A thousand apologies for the past few chapters. I know they've been a drag. I always stray towards the meolodramatic. I just can't help it. Those chapters WERE necessary for the plot but I still think I got carried away. who knows. Anyway, a move away from california. and just a sidenote: Margaret's location at the end is supposed to not make sense. I'll clear it up in the next chapter.

* * *

Light was just begining to stream in through the heavy curtains when BJ began to wake up. A sweet scent greeted him and he smiled, reaching out to pull the warm body beside him closer. His hand brushed by a strand of her hair and his eyes jerked open. He stared at Margaret for a moment or two as he felt his chest grow tighter and tighter. All he could think about was Peg's fine, silky smooth hair. He could remember all the times he had brushed it and twirled it about in his fingers when they were together.

"Oh, you ass," he mumbled to himself in disgust. He leapt out of bed and grabbed for his clothes never giving the sleeping form beside him another thought.

* * *

Margaret moaned at the bright sunshine that slipped through the shades. She tentatively opened her eyes, almost afraid to look for the man who had shared her bed. Scenes from the night before crept into her foggy head and she smiled, rolling over in bed, expecting to see the blonde surgeon beside her. A quick glance around the room told her she was alone.

Her head screamed while she jumped out of bed, mumbling curses with every step. "_Houlihan, you foo_l!" her mind reprimanded. "_How could you be such and idiot?" _

"Wait a minute!" she said aloud, gaining steam as she looked at the tousled sheets on the empty bed. Her mind jumped track and she abandoned rebuking herself and instead reached for the glass vase that stood on the nightstand.

"Low-life scum!" she shrieked, taking her anger out on the fragile piece of glass. The sound of the glass shattering temporarily eased her furry and she quickly pulled her suitcase atop the bed.

* * *

Andrew Mole walked quickly out of his house and headed for the local doctor's office. He'd never had a sick day in all his thirty-one years of life and yet he frequented their local physician's office almost every day.

"Good morning Peggy," he greeted cheerfully, turning his bright green eyes on her bashful young receptionist. He gave a mock look of scorn as the young blonde tried to ignore his presence.

"I can't stand your famine guile any longer!" he declared vehemently. "I must have you, Peggy! I can't take it anymore." Much to the young girl's horror, he climbed on top of the desk, and stared into her wide startled eyes.

The seventeen year-old's face paled considerably and she began to stutter. "Mr. Mole, I can't—just—umm-I mean—my dad—"  
"Oh leave her alone, Andy." The tall, lanky form of Daniel Pierce stood at the doorway of the office, two brown paper bags in his arms. "Take another shot at her when she turns eighteen." Peggy looked at her boss in dismay but he winked at the poor girl, trying to calm her.

Andrew climbed off the desk and relived Daniel of one of his parcels. "What'dya bring me today, boss?"

Daniel snatched the bag out of the man's hands and walked down a narrow hallway to the rear of the building. "Get a medical degree and I might consider sharing my lunch with you."

"Sick people?" Andrew laughed and grabbed a fresh roll out of one of the first bag and bit off a piece. "I hate sick people."

Daniel smiled tolerantly and shook his head in amusement. "Then get lost. I've got an appointment in ten minutes."

Andrew tossed the half-eaten piece of bread back in the sack and headed for the door. Say no more, boss." He paused at the doorway and grinned at the white-haired man. "Where is Ben, anyway?"

Daniel rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Lord only knows."

* * *

BJ stumbled out of the cab at approximately five in the morning. He crept towards his house feeling lower than he ever had in his life. He ever so quietly opened the front door, removing his shoes as he did so.

"The floor squeaks just as loudly with your shoes off."

Peg's tense voice caused BJ's heart to drop into his stomach. He looked to his right where a very worn out woman sat, still in the same crumpled dress from two nights before.

"Are you drunk?" she asked softly, her pretty blue eyes were clouded and her face looked swollen from crying.

"BJ shook his head in the negative; all that remained of the strong whiskey was a splitting headache.

"You look worse that I do," she mumbled. "Go get some sleep."

"I love you more than anything in the world," he stated firmly, hoping to bring some emotion back into his wife's face—even if it was anger. Her face was a completely blank and as cold as stone.

"I'm sorry baby," he finally admitted, his voice catching in his throat. "Please Peg, I'm so sorry, I just--  
"Why did you let me think you had slept with her?" Peg asked, her voice a bit stronger than before. "Why would you let me think something like that?"

BJ closed his eyes, trying to come up with an answer. He walked to the couch and dropped down on his knees before her. "I needed a reason to stop loving you. I needed to come up with something—anything—that would convince me that you weren't the one for me."

Peg's eyes filled with tears and her husband quickly laid a gentle hand against her face. Her first reaction was to push him away in disgust but she couldn't bring herself to deny the comfort of his warm touch.

"But I'll never be able to find that reason, Peg" he continued. "You're my perfect match in every way and I love you with all my heart." Never in his life had BJ been more terrified. His life hung in the balance, depending on weather she could find enough courage to forgive him—a gift he certainly didn't deserve.

"Don't hurt me anymore," she cried, reaching her arm out to her husband as tears rolled down her cheeks unchecked.

BJ threw his head back in relief before gathering his wife into his arms, showering her sweet-smelling hair with kisses; his thoughts never traveling to the woman he left behind.

* * *

Margaret sat at the train depot and sighed loudly as yet another man stumbled over her feet. She glared at him, inwardly wishing he'd step in front of a speeding train.

"Clumsy, fat cow," she growled. She heard a loud laugh and turned her head to see a tall, fair-haired man seated on the bench behind hers.

"Is there something you wanted?" she snapped.

"Of course not, Lieutenant-Colonel…" he paused, trying to read her nameplate. "Hooligan?" he laughed, his green eyes sparkling merrily.

"Houlihan." She corrected with a snap.

"My apologies, Ma'm," he offered, looking completely unapologetic.

Margaret turned back around and observed her surroundings. _"This certainly is a far cry from Fort Worth,"_ she thought as she surveyed the humid, green landscape. _"But anything's better than dealing with all that."_

A quick tap on her shoulder interrupted Margaret's thoughts and she turned on the man, barely veiling her wrath. "What?"

"Care for a drink while you wait?" he was standing up now which gave Margaret ample opportunity to survey his entire physique. He was a tall man, definitely over six foot, and his arms were tan and strong. He was sharply dressed and Margaret couldn't resist a small smile. To say he was easy on the eyes would be quite an understatement. .

"That sounds nice, actually." She agreed civilly.

He nodded across the street. There's a horrible little bar across the street." He smiled and picked up her largest bag. "I promise to try and keep you long enough to miss your next train."

Margaret rewarded his flirtatious grin with an equally charming smile—excluding the fact that she was planning on staying in this dumpy little town for at least the weekend.

"My name is Andy, by the way" he informed her with another dazzling grin. "Andy Mole—no rodent references please."


	8. Chapter 8

I know this is cruelly short. But I thought you'd rather me post what I have instead of waiting for finals to be over (May 8th). I hope none of you have gotten too fed up with me!!

-MajorBaby

* * *

Ada Gertler, the town's local barkeeper, methodically wiped down her counters while carefully observing the couple at the rear of the building. She had known Andy since he was in diapers—that's just the way it was with this town—but she didn't know what to make of the harsh-looking blonde that was with him. Oh, the girl was pretty, certainly; but with her gaunt frame, brittle hair, and heavily-starched army uniform she held the appearance of someone who had seen her fair share of horrors and wasn't the better for it. Ada didn't like strangers in her town.

"Ada!" a disgruntled man in the doorway growled her name and the bartender groaned.

"Get out of here, Daniel." She barked. "Stop wasting my time."

"You promised." The aging doctor strode behind the counter and folded his arms across his chest, waiting for her excuses to start pouring out.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Ada's petite frame looked rather pathetic next to the doctor's but she roughly brushed past him anyway.

"You're killing him."

"That's not fair! He's killing himself. Besides, if the poor old bastard wants to die happy, I'm not going to stop him."

Daniel sighed deeply and lowered his body onto a straight backed, wooden chair. "He's my oldest friend, Adalene." He looked the woman directly in her eyes and she shifted uncomfortably under the intense stare. "Can't you just conspire with me to keep him a little healthier?"

She gave a half-hearted smile and rolled her eyes. "Dan, if Jesse wants a drink he's going to get one whether I'm the supplier or not."

"But it'll be harder for him," the old man protested. "Maybe that will keep him around a year longer."

"Fine. If Jesse Mole wants a drink, he won't be getting it from me." She let out an exasperated huff and began cleaning again.

Daniel Pierce smiled appreciatively and ran his aged fingers through his thick mane of grey hair. He worried about his friend. Ever since Jesse's wife died, ten years ago, the man would hardly speak to anyone other than Daniel or Ada. He was drinking himself to death.

A chair scrapped against the wooden floor as the couple in the back of the bar stood to leave. Daniel kicked himself for not noticing Andy earlier—the boy was touchy about his father, he insisted the old man didn't have a problem.

The blonde looked reluctant to leave, eyeing the liquor bottles behind the counter hungrily. Andy walked straight to the door and out into the sunshine but Daniel intercepted his companion.

"Can I buy you a drink? A small welcome." He smiled sociably and motioned towards the empty seat to the left.

Margaret quickly decided to join the old man, leaving Andy alone with his suddenly foul mood. "Margaret Houlihan," she introduced herself.

"It's nice to meet you, Lieutenant Colonel." Daniel smiled broadly as he recognized her as his son's part-time nemesis from Korea.


	9. Chapter 9

Margaret strode purposefully down the sidewalk, her eyes aimed straight ahead—never once straying towards the storefronts. Anyone watching her would naturally assume she was on a mission. Margaret prided herself on the fact that she could always completely direct her attentions on the task at hand while blocking out any distractions. Unfortunately, her only task at the moment was mulling over her behavior of past weeks. Undertaking such an activity was not what Margaret had in mind when she impulsively boarded the train headed to Maine.

An arm shot out in front of her and she was jerked sideways into an alleyway. Andy Mole smiled at her as he backed her up against the brick building.

"I never thought I'd be able to steal you back from Dan." He offered her a sloppy grin, trying to coax the frown off her face.

Margaret tightened her lips into a straight line and glared at him.

"Oh fine," he took a step back and crossed his arms. "I was being sulky—I admit it. Now where did that sexy colonel go?"

Margaret couldn't help but allow her lips to curl upward slightly. This devastatingly handsome man was a very welcome distraction.

"There she is." Andy stepped towards her once again and wrapped his hands around the smallest part of her waist.

"Now wait just one minute!" she pushed him back firmly as he leaned in towards her lips. "Do you think I'm the kind of woman that just goes around kissing any man who buys me a drink?"

"Of course not!" Andy gave her an apologetic look but Margaret didn't trust the sparkle in his eyes. "Only the handsome ones." He laughed at his assumed wit and tried to zero in on her mouth once again.

"Nothing doing, Mister!" Margaret side-stepped him and skirted behind a stack of crates piled beside the back door of the restaurant.

"Alright, I'll admit it—I don't love you for your mind. I love you for those beautiful blue eyes. Your slender neck that's just begging to be kissed. Those legs that are far too long for your own good. And your—"

"I get the point." Her voice wasn't nearly as firm as she would have wanted. Andy quickly caught the weakness and stepped in, leaving her no room for escape.

"But of course your mind is the center for decision-making. So depending on what you decide to do now…" he pulled her close against his body with his left arm which left his right hand free to seductively stroke the curve of her neck. "I could very quickly learn to love your mind."

"What a line." Margaret rolled her eyes but smiled encouragingly. She pushed her body against him and kissed him roughly.

"My god," he gasped when they broke off for air. "I love your mind."

* * *

"Margaret is here."

Hawkeye stopped in the doorway of the office and looked at his father in surprise.

"Who?" Hawkeye closed the door with his foot and followed his father's voice toward the back of the office.

Daniel looked up and smirked as he saw his son enter the room. "Andy's been looking for you." He informed the thirty-three year old man.

"What did you say?"

"Hmm?" Daniel turned his brown eyes upon his son and smiled innocently.

"Who's here?"

"Andy. He was here about three hours ago."

"Who else?"

"Oh, Margaret."

"Margaret who?"

Daniel chuckled at his son's aggravated expression. Hawkeye knew at least four women named Margaret none of which he was all too excited at the prospect of seeing.

"Well you're just going to have to find Andy and figure that out, aren't you?" Daniel turned back to his paperwork as Hawkeye shouted triumphantly.

"Ha! It's Margaret Boyd, isn't it? Isn't it? She always had a thing for Andy. Where is she? I'll bet they're cuddled up at Ada's." He moved towards the door but his father's voice stopped him.

"Not there. I had a drink with her about an hour ago Then she walked towards the beach."

"I was at the beach, no one's there."

"Andy must have intercepted her then."

"I thought you said she was already with Andy."

"She probably is."

"What?" Why do I bother asking you anything?" Hawkeye marched out of the office, leaving Daniel behind—highly amused at his son's frustration.

* * *

"What are you thinking?" Andy brushed a bit of blonde hair out of Margaret's eyes and pulled her a little closer to his side.

Margaret shifted uncomfortably in the sand and frowned. "Nothing important."

Andy took the hint and removed his arm from around her shoulders. "Do you feel like getting something to eat now?"

"What time is it?" Margaret sat up and peered anxiously about her. There was no one in sight and she slowly let out a breath of relief. She buttoned her shirt and readjusted her skirt as she rose to her feet.

"It's about five thirty."

"I guess," Margaret shrugged, showing absolutely no emotion.

"Can I join you two lovebirds?"

The voice was coming from the rocks above and Margaret felt a little nauseous at the sound. It was familiar—much too familiar. She kept her head down, facing the sand, as Andy yelled something to the man above.

"Oh come on," Hawkeye continued. "Three old friends together again."

Andy looked at Hawkeye in confusion. "You know Margaret?"

Hawkeye glanced down at where he had first seen his best-friend and the pretty blonde with him. He had assumed it was Margaret Williams—the only blonde Margaret that had crossed his mind.

He scrutinized the woman on the beach, who still had her back to him. The longer he stared the more familiar the figure became to him. Then he realized what he should have noticed in the first place—she was wearing an army uniform.

Margaret Houlihan slowly looked upward—an angry scowl on her face.

"Well…" Hawkeye grinned to himself. "I guess I know five Margarets."


	10. Chapter 10

"No matter!" he shouted down at the perturbed couple. "I'll still join you."

"Not without a date you won't." Andy retorted. "I've been through this too many times with you."

Margaret brushed past Andy in disgust. "Who said I would join either of you?"

"How do you know him?" Andy asked her while ignoring her mumbled comment.

By this time Hawkeye had scrambled down to the shoreline and hand flung a lazy arm around Margaret's shoulders.

"Why, we're old army buds, aren't we, Mags?" he leaned in for a kiss and Margaret pushed him away in aggravation.

"Oh please." She turned, almost apologetically, to Andy. "We worked together."

"Very, very, very well." He grinned devilishly and then winked at Andy. "Like a well oiled machine, right Margaret?"

Margaret scowled and walked back towards the boardwalk, using her fingers to comb the sand out of her hair. "I'm in no mood to deal with you, Pierce." She growled, refusing to turn to face him although she knew he was gaily moving after her—Andy only steps behind.

The three of them made a funny sight as they rounded the corner of the town's main street. Many shoppers, clerks, and salesmen who had known Andy and Ben for years watched with interest as the two grown men trotted lustily after the beautiful woman in the disheveled army uniform.

"What on earth are you doing with _her_?" Hawkeye asked pointedly as he hurried after his friend who was hurrying after the blonde.

"Jealous?" Andy grinned and stuck out his tongue.

"As soon as she's done with whatever she came here for she'll drop you so fast you'll be on the rebound before she's even left."

"What? That doesn't even make any sense."

"Oh it will."

The two men stopped abruptly when they realized Margaret was no longer ten paces in front of them.

"What will it take to make you leave?" her voice came from behind them. They had passed her almost twenty feet before.

Hawkeye grinned triumphantly at his friend and Andy gave Margaret a wounded look. She rolled her eyes in response to their oblivion and nodded towards Hawkeye.

"I was referring to you, Doctor." Margaret crossed her arms and chewed on her lips introspectively. It struck her as odd that these two men were friends. Andy Mole was quite the charmer. So was Pierce, but not in the same way. Andy understood that he could get much farther with women if he let them take the lead a bit. Hawkeye wouldn't ever give anyone an inch—he had to be in control at all times.

"Why are you following me in the first place?" she asked coldly.

"Why are you in my town?"

_"Damn him,"_ she thought. He always could call her bluffs. "What will it take for you to buzz off?" she skirted around the question easily.

"Unfortunately, Major dear, I do not buzz. I can talk, cough, sneeze, walk, laugh, cry, or even ravage. But I refuse to buzz. It's not natural."

Margaret gave a tight-lipped smile. "Funny. Leave." Then she added as an afterthought, "…and it's Lieutenant-Colonel."

"I don't want to and I can call you whatever I want, Lieutenant." He grinned and finished his statement by childishly projecting his tongue.

"It's not shortened to Lieutenant." She snapped. "It's either Lieutenant-Colonel or Colonel. You can't just…" Andy put his hand on her shoulder and Margaret stopped herself from being the subject of another battery of juvenile jokes and quickly turned her angry glare at Andy who had been watching the entire scene with considerably interest.

Hawkeye rarely acted with such a lack of charm in front of any woman and it puzzled Andy as to why. Surely, out of all the women they had been around, it would be Margaret that Hawkeye would want to enchant. This observation suddenly made Margaret much more interesting.

The threesome wound up in a local restaurant where they were quickly joined by a twenty-something, tall, leggy brunette who was obviously very well acquainted with Hawkeye.

"It must be marvelous being in the army!" gushed the newcomer after the short introductions. "So adventurous!"

Margaret's mouth narrowed and she stared the giggling girl down. "Hardly," she responded flatly.

"All those handsome soldiers…" Elvira prompted.

"I worked with doctors, not soldiers." Margaret categorically refused to enable this girl's imagination.

"Even better!" she squealed—a sound that caused everyone else at the table wince. "Surely you've met loads of handsome doctors!"

"Oh Margaret's had her fun," Hawkeye inserted with a wink.

"Was anyone talking to you, Captain?" the blonde snapped.

"I really wasn't, Hawkeye." Elvira sided with Margaret and placed a patronizing hand on Hawkeye's forearm. She froze for a moment as she did so, mulling over a sudden thought.

"I forgot the two of you worked together," she said slowly, the innuendo of romance clear in her voice. "I have to say, Colonel, I wish I could have seen Hawkeye in his uniform. I'll bet you looked dreadfully handsome." She leaned heavily on Hawkeye's arm and he responded with a wide, cocky grin.

"Are you kidding? I looked fantastic! Didn't I, Colonel?"

Margaret snorted and rolled her eyes. "If you ever actually wore it."

The admission that was hidden in those words made Margaret wince and raised the eyebrows of both men. Margaret lifted her head defiantly as a defense.

"Stop calling me _Colonel_," she changed the subject. "You're not in the army anymore—it sounds ridiculous."

"Well then stop calling me _Captain_."

"I didn't call you _Captain_."

"Yes you did!"

"I did not!"

"Yes you did!"

Andy, who had wisely kept out of the conversation thus far, put a gentle hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Let's switch seats." He suggested. She nodded in response and they began to slide out of the booth.

"Have fun with your new toy!" Hawkeye jeered in farewell. Andy and Elvira both cringed in anticipation of the oncoming shouting match.

"How dare you!?" The cry came out loud and shrill, attracting the attention of the entire restaurant.

"You know, you ask me that a lot but I think you know it's not really that daring to say what I'm thinking." His smooth smile only fueled her anger.

"My relationships are none of your business!" she screeched.

"Relationships? Wow, that's some euphemism, Margaret. How about _attachments_? No, that's still not right. _Amusements?_ Yes, that's much more realistic, isn't it?"

"You arrogant, bigoted, hypocrite! How can you possibly justify mocking my choices while you spend all your free time chasing around these idiotic girls fresh out of high-school? You are the most disgusting, pitiful excuse of a man I have ever met and who I choose to spend my time with is none of your business!"

The teasing expression that was on Hawkeye's face quickly morphed into a cloud of anger. He didn't say a word as he got to his feet and held out a hand for Elvira to join him. The young girl sent Margaret a wounded look as she leaned into Hawkeye's arms.

"Then get lost, Margaret." He said quietly. "I didn't ask for you to show up."

The couple left the building, leaving Margaret and Andy behind within a sea of curious onlookers.


	11. Chapter 11

Margaret stood perfectly still, her head raised high in defiance of the many pairs of eyes curiously watching her with disapproval. She heard Andy cough subtly and she found him seated back in the booth. Frankly, she was shocked to see him calmly pouring over the menu while finishing off his cup of coffee. Margaret straightened her back, with as much poise as she could muster, and seated herself across from her handsome acquaintance.

"Do you need more time to decide?" he asked with a charming grin, motioning to her unopened menu.

"I'll have whatever you're having." She muttered, still fuming over Hawkeye's sneering remarks.

"You have a mind of your own," he countered. "Use it."

Margaret was so involved with her silent diatribes she completely missed the man's attractive, teasing smile. "What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed at him.

He reached a hand across the table to join with hers. "Forget about him, Margaret." He chuckled lightly. "He's not going to change so stop demanding that he does."

"I'm not demanding anything."

"Not vocally." He smiled and tapped her menu with his index finger. "Name your poison. I'd avoid anything with meat, vegetables, or fruit."

"Why don't you care that I hate him? Aren't you his friend?"

Andy laughed at the question and tried to avoid it.

"Answer me." she demanded.

"Hawkeye and I are friends, yes." He paused, trying to figure out which version of the truth would anger Margaret the least. "But we have a sort of understanding when it comes to women." He winced as Margaret's face stiffened. "Besides," he quickly amended. "I don't think you really hate him. If you did there might be a problem."

"I do hate him."

"No you don't. You're here, aren't you?" Andy chuckled and shook his head. "Actions even speak louder than shouting matches."

"Now understand one thing," she snapped harshly. "I am not here to see Doctor Pierce. Nor will I ever seek out his company."

"Then why are you here, Margaret?" his tone was quiet but it carried a significant air of curiosity.

"I really don't think I want to eat here." She started to stand up but Andy caught her with his apologetic words. He was intelligent enough to realize that physical restraint would never work with Margaret no matter how slight she appeared.

"No more questions, I promise." His enchanting smile brought Margaret back to her seat—well almost to her seat. She leaned over the man, hovering her lips slightly over his.

"I really don't want to eat here," she whispered with a laugh. She started to straighten her body but Andy threw his hand around her neck, pulling her soft lips to his.

* * *

After a satisfying evening with Elvira, Hawkeye slowly ambled home. A cool, ocean breeze was floating inland through the pine trees. He inhaled deeply. There wasn't a smell on earth that could compare to the mix of salt, sand, and evergreens. This part of town was significantly older than the area where he had met with Margaret and Andy for lunch. That main section of Crabapple Town was constantly being renovated, all the storeowners doing their best to attract the tourists that would begin flowing into town in another week or so for the annual Lobster Festival.

The quiet neighborhood that Hawkeye now meandered through had been built just after the turn of the century. Generally, the houses were all built with the same clapboard siding and split-cedar shingled roofs. After a good rain the scent of the wet wood traveled through the air in a delightful mix with the typical smell of the ocean.

Even though Hawkeye should have been content with how his evening had progressed, the angry insults he and Margaret and hurled at one another left him troubled. She insisted she hadn't come to see him and yet there she was in the town he had called home for all of his life. She knew he lived there—he had talked about it enough in Korea. And she hadn't looked surprised when he found them at the beach—only annoyed.

He recalled the look of anger that had simmered clearly in Margaret's eyes. He had unwittingly stuck a very deep nerve with his lewd remark. He had expected a sneer, not the torrent of furry that had been channeled in his direction. Why--?

Hawkeye abruptly broke off this futile train of thought and cut through his lawn, headed for the back door of his home. The old house rose with significant stature against the evergreen forest in back. It wasn't a beach front property, but a short walk through the neighbor's lawn, and down the rocky cliffs brought you to the narrow strip of beach and the turbulent waves that constantly crashed against the enormous rocks.

The sound of crashing waves was soon interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Hawkeye cursed as he struggled to open the kitchen door—it often stuck do to the humidity that hung in the air. With a final heave he crashed into the house and headed for the phone. Hawkeye assumed correctly that Daniel would still be at the office, filling out a stack of never ending paperwork. He cursed loudly as his foot jammed against the table leg.

"He growled into the telephone receiver. "Whoever this is, it had better be more important than my left foot."

"Your right foot, maybe." Came the light-hearted response. "But I doubt it was worth your left foot—sorry."

Hawkeye's countenance cheered instantly. "BJ! I didn't think you'd come out of your suburban paradise long enough to give me a call!"

The Californian gave a soft, slow chuckle and paused—trying to form his words. "Yeah well---did you ever read Paradise Lost?"

Hawkeye grasped the inference and frowned. "What's going on, Beej?"

"Everything is just a mess. I—well—stupid—rash—a good deal of whiskey involved." The man didn't seem capable of a coherent thought.

"Sounds like your paradise went down in a blaze of glory."

"More like a blaze of idiocy."

"So are you going to tell me what happened?"

"I cheated on my wife."

Hawkeye took in the information and found himself feeling annoyed with his sandy-haired friend. Oh how the mighty do fall… Hawkeye checked his train of thought. "Is she kicking you out?"

"No." BJ sounded depressed and tired. "We're trying to work things out. She thinks we need a break for a week or so, though."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Meaning, she wants to get away from you for a week or two so she can try and deal with how you betrayed her." The words came out harsher than he intended.

"Ouch."

"Sorry."

There was a long silence between the two friends until BJ cleared his throat nervously. "How does a visit with your favorite swamp rat sound?"

Hawkeye suddenly remembered that Margaret was in town. He was about to tell his friend as much, when a gnawing sensation in his stomach stopped him. "Yeah!" he offered half-heartedly. "I've got a friend in town right now but we could work something out." Hawkeye wasn't certain why he was refusing his best friend. Why did something feel so wrong?

"So was the girl anyone Peg knew?" he asked suddenly.

"Not exactly." The man answered evasively. "She knew _of_ her, I guess."

"An old friend of _yours_?"

"Since you've got company I guess we'll have wreak havoc on your town some other time."

""Yeah," Hawkeye realized exactly why the conversation was coming to a close so quickly—BJ was refusing to tell Hawkeye the identity of his temporary lover. "I guess I'll be hearing from you."

"Yeah." There was another awkward pause and then Hawkeye heard a soft click followed by a dial tone.

The uneasy feeling in his stomach remained as he walked to the icebox and pulled out a bottle of beer. The timing was just too eerily close to be a coincidence.


	12. Chapter 12

Hawkeye sat in the dark kitchen while contemplating getting up to retrieve another beer from the icebox. Unfortunately, the unexpected call from BJ left Hawkeye with a bitter taste in his mouth that even a strong brew couldn't wash down.

_Jesus, not even BJ's happy. This goddamn war screwed everyone over. _

Hawkeye knew—or at least guessed—that Margaret was unhappy with the prospect of whatever it was she had planned. But then Margaret never seemed to content with where she was. BJ, on the other hand, always seemed the least affected by the war. Hawkeye had always assumed the man would easily morph right back into civilian life. Apparently living the American dream wasn't as easy or fulfilling as it looked.

_We're all just wandering around aimlessly with no idea what the hell we're going to do next. _

To solidify this thought with an action, Hawkeye stood up, hesitated as he deliberated where he was going, and then sat down heavily into the chair.

_I can't even decide if I'm going out or staying in. How the hell am I going to figure out the rest of my life?_

He contemplated calling his friend back and offering his home for the weekend but he grimaced at the thought. He didn't want someone's own problem's on top of his own. Hawkeye was welcomed home by his father with open arms and tears of joy, but Crabapple Cove wasn't the idyllic town he remembered.. He had been prone to exaggeration, as so many people are, as he reminisced about his old haunts. No that he was back in the town where he grew up he was harshly reminded of the busybodies who constantly lecture him about his behavior, his language, and his drinking habits. He was reminded of the potent smell of fish that wafts upward from the harbor. He was reminded of the girls who were either too young or too old to escape their town (neither of which attracted his attention). But most of all is was a constant reminder of the fact that he had failed as a surgeon. Oh he knew he could still operate in circles around any other doctor in the state. But he had lost the determination to be the best; lost the thrill he got when faced with piecing a person back to life.

The humdrum life of a family physician could be fulfilling to some but for Hawkeye it was just a daily reminder that he could no longer do what he felt he was born to do.

* * *

"C'mon tell me!" Andy insisted, pulling Margaret closer to his side as they sat on the small sofa in her hotel room. "Who did you dream about?"

"Why are you so curious? An actor is an actor!" Margaret smiled and pulled back slightly so she could look into his handsome face.

"Quite the contrary, Margaret. If you tell me who you dreamt would sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset that will explain not only what you want in a man but who you picture yourself as." His charming smile coaxes a similar expression from Margaret.

"You should be a psychiatrist."

"I am."

Margaret laughed in disbelief. "Oh please."

"I am!" he protested.

"You have a degree in psychology?"

"Yes."

Margaret laughed again, this time not out of disbelief but out of surprise. "Well you're full of surprises."

"Well now it's my turn to be surprised. Who was your dream man?"

"Nothing about me is very surprising," Margaret said quietly with a gentle smile. She was tiring of this subject. Andy was starting to pry again.

"Why do you take everything so personal? There's nothing shameful or too revealing about telling me who your dream man is."

"But you just said—"

"Oh, who listens to a psychiatrist?"

Margaret laughed, finally willing to play his game. "Fine, but you have to guess."

Andy grinned and studied the lovely woman beside him. "Gable." He finally guessed.

"As in I'm Vivian Leigh?"

Andy nodded with a sheepish grin.

"That hurts." She teased him with a mock frown and encouraged him to guess again.

"Bogart?"

"No."

"Cliff?"

"Too recent."

"Not Wayne?"

"A firm no."

"Grant?"

"Beautiful, but no."

Andy threw up his hands in mock exasperation. "Now what the hell is wrong with Cary Grant?"

Margaret laughed and pulled her legs underneath her on the cushion. "Nothing."

"Exactly. Nothing is wrong with the man! He's tall, he's handsome, he's suave, he's British, he's American, he's even a republican! What can you have against him? If you won't take Grant how the hell are the rest of us guys supposed to measure up?"

"He doesn't make me laugh." Margaret said with amusement.

"Why Lieutenant, you're not a Chaplin fan are you?"

Eyes sparkling, Margaret leaned in to kiss him. "He's funny, he's cute, and he doesn't say a word."

"You know that really says a lot about—" Margaret silenced him with her lips.

"You should learn to keep quiet too."

* * *

"Where's Margaret?" Daniel asked his son as he walked into the dark kitchen, flipping on the light-switch.

"How the hell should I know?" Hawkeye growled.

Daniel stared sorrowfully at his son. He knew his son was hurting and he had no idea how to help. He might have a clue if Hawkeye would talk to him but ever since the young man came home he had all but refused to discuss Korea. It seemed he had banished even the good memories. Daniel had hoped the sudden appearance of Margaret would help ease his son's troubled mind but it only seemed to worsen things.

The phone shrilled and Daniel heaved a heavy sigh as he went to answer it. "Who the hell is calling this late?" The aging man picked up the receiver and offered a curt hello. A dour smile appeared on his face and he waved the phone to catch Hawkeye's attention. "It's for you, _Captain._"

Hawkeye scowled at the name. He lurched towards the phone. "What the hell do you want, Hot Lips?"

"Excuse me?" the deep, harsh voice on the other end of the line sounded near livid.

Hawkeye sighed in irritation but refused to recant the greeting. "Who is this?"

"Is this Captain Pierce?"

No," Hawkeye raised his voice considerably for emphasis. "Who is this?"

The man tried again. "I'm looking for Captain Benjamin Pierce."

"No one resides here by that name. We have a Doctor Daniel Anthony Pierce, Doctor Benjamin Franklin Pierce, and Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde make an appearance every once in a while but--"

"No see here, young man!" the voice roared. "I don't have time for your insolent nonsense. Is this Benjamin Franklin Pierce, MD?"

"Ahh, see? That's better. You dropped that silly army business. Yes, this is _Doctor_ Pierce."

The man's fury had now reached boiling point. It didn't help that Hawkeye wasn't even attempting to conceal his laughter. "I'm inquiring to see if you recall an army comrade of yours—Major Houlihan."

Hawkeye was genuinely shocked into silence. "Sure," he finally managed. "I remember Comrade Houlihan." His voice was still slightly mocking and the man didn't fail to catch it.

"Are you informed of her whereabouts?"

Hawkeye now had an inclination as to who he was talking to. "Why you didn't misplace on of your soldiers did you Colonel? Or am I speaking to a star-spangled General?"

"You are speaking to General Marcus Houlihan. I've earned my position and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't make a mockery out of the service I deeply respect."

"Sorry General, I have no idea where Miss Houlihan is."

"Lieutenant-Colonel Houlihan," he corrected with a snap.

"Jeez," Hawkeye whispered under his breath. "What's with this family?"

"Excuse me?" the man strained to catch the words but couldn't.

"Like I said, I don't know where she is."

Hawkeye hung up the phone with a bang. He stood still for a moment, ignoring his father's curious gaze. And then in a flash he was tugging his jacket back on and opening the kitchen door. "I've got somewhere to go," he yelled over his shoulder.

The walk into town was a fairly good distance but it allowed Hawkeye to think over Margaret's actions and try and to piece them together with what he was going to say. He finally gave up on deliberations and let himself travel into full rant-mode. He walked down the quiet streets mumbling curses under his breath and rolling his eyes at imaginary comebacks.

Hawkeye decided to try the hotel first. He obtained a key from the receptionist without incident and quickly headed for Margaret's room. He deftly inserted the key, relishing the silenced laughter as he flung open the door, his head cocked lazily to one side.

"Sorry to interrupt," he greeted jovially. "Who is Marcus?" he stared directly into Margaret face, feigning disinterest. Hawkeye deeply enjoyed watching the color drain from Margaret's face. The annoyed expression that had been there only a moment before was now completely eradicated and replaced by—was it fear? No, not fear, rather a look of impending doom.

Andy scowled at his friend, irritated at the disturbance. He glanced at Margaret and noted his expression. "I don't think I'm necessary anymore," he yielded graciously.

Margaret comically jumped up and grabbed onto his arm. "No! You're fine where you are."

"Who's Marcus?" Hawkeye repeated evenly, still maintaining a light attitude as he nestled into the couch where the couple had just been seated.

The look that Margaret sent Andy demanded that he intervene. Fortunately, the man was intelligent enough not to get involved between the two violent tempers.

"I'll be around town tomorrow," he offered as a parting and quickly headed out the door.

Left alone with Hawkeye, Margaret was now forced to answer his question or risk him pestering her for the rest of the night. "I assume you're speaking of General Marcus?" she continued after a curt nod from Hawkeye. "He is my Uncle."

"Really? Now that's interesting. I didn't think I'd be getting calls from your relatives inviting me to brunch quite so soon. I mean, maybe after a couple of years of us sleeping together—but before the first date? That I'd never even imagined!"

"What did he want?" Margaret snapped furiously, her fists clenched at her sides as she struggle to keep from throwing something or hitting the man in front of her.

"Why Margaret! You don't believe—" Hawkeye quickly abandoned his jest when he realized how angry he had gotten the woman. He knew very well he would be pummeled if she decided to attack him. "You. He wanted to know where you were."

Margaret didn't move as she peered suspiciously at Hawkeye. "What did you tell him?"

"Lucky for me I didn't tell him anything. I said I hadn't a damn clue as to where you were and I hung up the phone."

"You hung up on him?" she shrieked, the noise making him wince. "What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what he's like when he's insulted? He—"

"Hopefully nothing like you," Hawkeye crossed his arms and stood up, attempting to intimidate Margaret with his tall frame—it didn't work and he took a quick step backwards as Margaret started towards him. He relaxed his body and tried a different approach.

"Why is he looking for you?" he asked softly.

The gentle tone caught Margaret off guard and she caved. She looked Hawkeye squarely in the eye, daring him to spout off again. "He's looking for me because I'm AWOL."


End file.
